Through Magics in Thy Present Mind
by StarDuchess
Summary: Harry goes on a journey to understand the fundamentals of magic only to discover his own self and life with Snape along the way. SSHP slash. Post-Hogwarts EWE.


**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter is property of JKR and her associates. No money is made from this story.

**PROMPT:** This was written for Venturous in the Secret Snarry Swap 2013 fest on snape_potter on LJ/IJ/DW. Her prompt idea was _Snape or Harry are lost in an alternate dimension, reality, time, place. Clever magic is required and strong feelings are discovered._

**WARNINGS:** Some violence and language by outside parties. Mentions of slash sex.

**CAVEAT:** This is not your usual Snarry. It is different and thought-provoking and a little strange. Harry is researching the fundamentals of magic and magic itself takes him to some very strange places - flat 2D land, historical 3D land, all-time 4D land. It even alters his thoughts at one point. I put this in the spiritual category for a reason, although it's more appropriate to call it metaphysical. You have been warned that this is not a normal story, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

* * *

**Through Magics in Thy Present Mind**

Unspeakable Harry James Potter threw down his wand in frustration at the papers on his desk. It had been two and a half years of work and nothing to show for it. There weren't deadlines in the department per se, but he'd hoped to have some results by now or, barring that, at least some progress worthy of writing up a status report. But no. A few sparks out of his wand, a fizzle, and then nothing. He placed his hands on the desk surface and hung his head.

He thought back to the time when magic was so new, when it was awe-inspiring and could do anything - animate pictures, transfigure moths into toadstools, fly! Everything had seemed fabulous when he had been eleven. Too bad much of that had been lost shortly thereafter. Magic couldn't perform miracles, after all. Even the Master of Death couldn't bring people back from the dead. And yet Harry had wanted to recapture that feeling of wonder and freedom he'd had as a young wizard, had wanted to find and show all the ways that magic could be great.

And so here he was, working in the most secret of places within the Ministry, researching the fundamentals of magic, and still he was no closer to pinpointing how magic existed than he had been when he'd started. There were a lot of theories, some of which he'd mulled over with Hermione - spiritual manifestation, cellular energy combustion, neurological synapses, sixth sense sensitivity, creature biology - but nothing solid that was practical enough for testing.

Putting it down as a bad day's job, Harry sat down and slumped in his chair. He closed his eyes in an attempt to stave off a headache and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

He awoke to intense throbbing in his head. He didn't have the fuzziness in his mouth associated with a hangover, so he assumed the headache from before had not gone away as planned. He staggered to his feet, only to realise that he wasn't at his desk. In fact, he wasn't inside at all but was rather reclining on a cliff overlooking the sea, his wand a mere foot away in the grass. Waves crashed against the jagged rocks below, the sound of which was counterpoint to the timpani drum beat in his head and, therefore, did nothing to ease his pain. He had to get away and find out where he was and how he had gotten there.

He started down a grassy path away from the cliffside, forced to move slowly lest he disturb the pounding in his head. The twilight grays were rapidly dwindling into night, but he thought he could make out a little village off to the south. The rest of the countryside was unfamiliar to him, rough edges that quickly smoothed out into dense woods. He found a well-worn path and took it.

About halfway to his destination, when darkness had fallen but the night was still young, he heard voices coming up from the other direction. There were quite a few, hollering derision, not at all friendly. Harry decided to take cover and watch as they passed by, so he crouched in the bushes off to the side, casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself for good measure, the gooey feeling of egg sliding over him making him nauseated. Luckily, the headache had passed.

It wasn't long before the crowd came into view, most of them carrying lanterns and sticks, all pushing and prodding and spouting insults at a man stumbling along in front, his hands tied behind his back.

"We'll string ye up by yer toes and let ye dangle above the crags!"

"Yes, then ye be howling for your master, but the devil ain't gonna save ye!"

"We should boil him in oil first, get him to confess his perversion. See who else he's been having it on with!"

"Ay! What other lasses and laddies have ye been corrupting?"

They pushed the man again, throwing him off balance so that he pitched forward and went down hard on his knees. He groaned from the contact, and Harry winced in sympathy. They berated the man again before hauling him up by the shoulders and continuing up the path. Harry was going to let them pass, not wanting to get involved in an unknown place until he had more information, but as the group went by, something niggled at his conscience. He couldn't see very well in the woods, but the man's cloak and demeanor seemed familiar and his instincts were on high alert, so he crept along behind them, back up the trail.

When they reached the forest's edge, the three-quarters moon had risen, casting a glowing light upon the sloping cliffs. The air was cool but not damp, as one would expect so near the coast. Perhaps the mists didn't travel this far up. The moonlight illuminated the villagers, who were wearing what appeared to be eighteenth century period garb - three-pointed hats, frock coats, brocaded vests, lace cravats, breeches, high tights, and buckled shoes. The man being jostled by the others was in dark coloured robes and something like a great cloak.

"Ay, ye know where ye're headed, straight to hell! Not far now."

"Be saying yer prayers, what ye have of 'em. Gonna need 'em, I say."

They all laughed at that and then kicked him again, pitching him forward.

"Oh, lazy bastard, get up and walk to yer death like a man!"

"I say he's asking for a punishment," said another, who raised his cane and landed it on the man's back.

"Ay, make him atone for his sins."

The other men began kicking and hitting the poor man on the ground, who gasped and shuddered and curled up on himself to avoid the worst of the blows. In one instance he turned his face in Harry's direction and the moonlight caught distinct features.

Snape!

What was he doing here? How had he come to be in such a precarious position? Why wasn't he using his magic to defend himself? Harry didn't know any of these things, but those could be answered later. He had to save Snape first.

Throwing off the Disillusionment Charm, Harry revealed himself and shouted, "Hey! You lot get off him!"

The attackers looked back to Harry, stunned in confusion, their prey forgotten for the moment. Snape groaned and opened his eyes, staring with pain and his own confusion at the tableau.

"Now, laddie, this ain't no nevermind of yers. We've a demon to take care of; that's nothing new. Ye just go on home." The villager was very calm and diplomatic about this, and the others all nodded their heads in agreement, like they really did do this sort of thing all the time.

Harry was having none of it. "Sorry, but you can't do that. You have to leave him alone!"

Dawning comprehension arose in some of their faces. "Oh, we sees how it is. Ye being one of those devils, too. Fine. We can string ye both up at once. Get him, fellows!" Half the group broke off and ran towards Harry, an angry glint in their eyes. Harry in turn brandished his wand and began firing spells at the on-coming throng only to have his spells fizzle out upon contact with the enemy. No shield or anything, the spells just faded out. That had never happened before.

Harry turned and ran, but he was too late and the men overtook him and wrestled him to the ground. He was kicking and screaming, "Stop it. Let me go!" The men weren't listening; they were punching and kicking him in return. One particularly good kick got him in the genitals, the pain flaring through Harry and making him freeze in a gasp. He tried to cover himself with his hands, but the men grabbed his arms and tied his wrists behind him.

After that, they hauled him up, Harry still blinking back the pain from his groin, and marched him over to where Snape was still lying on the ground. His eyes met Harry's and they were filled with rage, although Harry couldn't tell if it was directed at him or their attackers. Probably both.

"Well, now, we should give ye both a taste of hell before we send ye there, ye damned witches. We ain't gonna let ye steal our souls. Men, let's have at 'em." With that the men laid into Harry and Snape, who writhed on the ground in pain and fear. Harry felt his magic rise up to combat the pain, only to have it explode outward, infusing him and all his surroundings. Harry screamed as darkness enveloped him.

* * *

When he came to his senses, there was a lingering ache throughout his muscles everywhere they had hurt him, but it was ebbing away. He had no idea what his magic had done, but if it had saved him, that would surely be a good thing. He wondered if Snape had gone through something similar or if he was going to have to go back and rescue Snape. Daunting prospect, that, considering he still didn't know where any of this was.

Trying to answer that question, Harry opened his eyes, only to be met with the strangest sight before him. Where landscape and foliage and sky should have been, he only saw a single, vertical line. Some of the line was blue above him, some was mottled black and tan, and the rest below was all black. Harry tried to look left and right, but his eyes wouldn't go there. All he could see was one vertical line up and down. He then tried to reach out to the line, only to have his hands and arms behave strangely. One arm came up beside him, masking the black and tan spots with his own olive complexion. It felt odd that he couldn't see his hand, but he could feel it. As for his other arm, it seemed to be occupying the middle of his body. It, too, only moved up and down, not right and left, and it seemed to bisect his body. It was very strange. He tried to grip his wand and failed, as neither hand could make a fist.

He attempted to yell for help, but upon opening his whole mouth felt compressed. His jaw lowered as usual, but his teeth all felt like one tooth on top and one on the bottom and his tongue was a small sliver of muscle contained in the middle. Panic began to rise in him when his spoken words for help became muddled and sounded flat to his ears. He heard an answering "Potter!" from across the way, so he assumed all the black was Snape. He tried to take a step forward, and though he did move, it was only a shuffling gait. His feet would not cross each other in a normal cadence. It was bizarre.

And then he tried to take a real breath. His lungs expanded downward, but only a tiny bit of air came in, and that same little bit went back out again. He couldn't take in enough air. His lungs began to burn with the need for oxygen and panic slammed into him with the full force of a Bludger. He started hyperventilating. He couldn't think; he couldn't breathe. Maybe that mob _had_ sent him to hell. As his mind sped through horrific possibilities, the panic grew more pronounced and he finally screamed for Snape. His magic sparked again and everything went white. [1]

* * *

Harry landed on his hands and knees on a beach, the waves gently crashing nearby, the salt air blowing against his face, and the sun burning down on them. All of him ached as he took in huge gulps of air. He looked around, nearly blinded by the sun at midday, and saw Snape kneeling beside him, also gulping air.

"What the hell was that?" he asked of Snape.

"I have no idea, you fool, but I do not wish to repeat the experience."

"That was the weirdest … everything felt compressed. And I have no idea where we are now."

"A Caribbean or Pacific island by the looks of it."

"Oh, and I assume you just read the imaginary sign over there for unexpected travelers."

Snape turned to him with venom in his voice. "No, you pathetic excuse for a wizard, I merely used my intelligence to gather facts and draw conclusions from them, something lacking from your educational training."

Anger sparked inside Harry. He'd always hated Snape's belief that he could and should mock Harry's intelligence. He might not have been the most brilliant of students, especially on the book-learning side, but he did sufficiently well on all of his practicals to garner EEs and Os in the classes that mattered. Not to mention that he had been accepted into the Unspeakables, for which smarts and creativity were a must. Yet Snape had just said he didn't find Harry worthy of such a position. The accusation tensed his muscles, burned through his veins, ignited his need for a fight.

"My training is fine, no thanks to a certain Potions Master who couldn't teach worth a damn. What was that all about anyway, Snape? Too busy being a Death Eater to take a teacher's license course?"

"My teaching methods were never called into question except by students who'd failed to apply themselves. Tell me, Potter, what was your excuse for your lack of progress?"

"Between being berated by your sorry arse and the Slytherins' attempts to undermine my potions, it's amazing I got out of your class alive! Perhaps you should have maintained better control over your students! Once out from under your influence, I managed just fine in potions."

"Do not question me nor use me as an excuse for your own deplorable lack of knowledge! As I understand it, your shaky grasp of magical theory has extended into your career. How does it feel to be the most incompetent Unspeakable in the Ministry?"

"I am not incompetent! It's not my fault magic is illusive!"

"So it comes down to whinging, does it. Can't make it in the real world, can you, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm not whinging! I've been on this bloody assignment for two years, and none of the theories can be tested satisfactorily!"

"So you still have no understanding of your magic."

"People have been trying to understand magic for centuries! And I fail to see you doing any better, the oh, so great Potions Master who should have been accomplishing all kinds of research after the war, but instead you're barely making out with a pittance on that owl-post order business of yours. What happened? Lost your innovation, Snape?"

"How dare you chastise me, you little cretin! Despite your gallant oratory on my behalf, I'm still seen as a pariah in polite society, so I secluded myself in relative peace, which is obviously now quite disturbed."

"Sorry to break up your happiness, Snape, that you actually have to interact with another person."

"I'd be content to interact with anyone else besides you!"

"You're such a cowardly prick that you refuse to make friends and, therefore, NOBODY WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

"I'VE TOLD YOU BEFORE NOT TO CALL ME COWARD!"

The insults began to fly with passionate abandon, years of animosity coming back to the forefront. Harry could feel the rage inside build to an inferno, an explosion imminent on the horizon. Each word was laced with vitriol, the intention to inflict damage deep down inside. With each comment, he hoped to pierce Snape's hard exterior and watch him bleed, his own heart crying inside at the pain he was causing, weeping despair down into his magical core along with the anger aflame in his blood and the heat from the sun overhead.

The explosion finally came as Harry let loose with his rage, a guttural scream emitting from his lips as his fist flew to Snape's jaw. His magic burst forth in a red-hot flash, engulfing both men and blinding any near-by fauna. In an instant, they had disappeared.

* * *

_Harry's mind new nothing. The read haze was clouding everyone. He couldn't member where he was or what he was doling out. There were two many fuzzies. A black visage swam before his i's, but that was better than the white, left? No, nothing was write. He tried to shake ... clean, but that just twisted more unlikeliness._

The confusion overtook him and he blacked out again.

* * *

As Harry came to, there was a thrumming all through him, beating in time with his heart as awareness flooded back from his senses, not the least of which was that it was cold and wet. He blinked his eyes open to a field of blue sky - possibly morning by the twitter of birds - and massive amounts of white snow. A forest of evergreens began not far from him to his left and the parapets of tall towers could be seen to his right.

Harry sighed in relief. "Hogwarts in the wintertime."

"So it would seem," came deep tones from behind him. Harry turned his head around to look at Snape, who was climbing to his feet and shaking snow off his robes. "Let us get to the castle before another such episode finds us."

"That last bit was so weird. Did you feel your brain being all mush?" Harry stood up and cast a drying charm followed by a warming charm on them both.

Snape's intense gaze bored into him. "Indeed. It was impossible to form a coherent sentence. Whatever you have done to affect us so, please refrain from doing it again."

"Whatever I'm doing? Who's to say it isn't you doing it?"

Snape sneered at him as if he was a dunderheaded student once again. "Because I would never willingly put myself into such predicaments, but you've been known to have been thrown into such adventures."

"Hey, I didn't ask for this either." Harry could feel himself grow defensive again and took some much needed breaths to calm his nerves. One yelling match with Snape was enough. "Look, let's just head to Hogwarts and see about getting some help. If nothing else, maybe the library will contain some answers."

"Very well."

The two trudged through the snow up to the gates of Hogwarts, which were open and the wards down to invite visitors, and up the path to the main doors. The air was crisp and cold but felt refreshing after the staggering heat of that beach. The castle appeared dazzling in its undisturbed blanket of snow, humming with a vibrancy Harry had not felt since his first year of school. In fact, the land felt pregnant with energy, magic tingling his senses. This was it. This was the feeling he had been trying to capture for the last couple of years.

"Do you feel it, Snape? The magic's almost palpable here."

Glancing over, Harry could see the confusion in Snape's face, a doubt and a mistrust of what was around them. "Indeed, and in such a way that I do not ever recall feeling before. Careful, Potter, this may be a trick or a trap."

Harry chuckled a little, shaking his head in bemusement. "Ever the paranoid one, aren't you, Snape?"

But before Snape could mete out a sarcastic reply, the doors opened and out stepped Rowena Ravenclaw to greet them. Both men stared at her in shock, for the evidence that met their eyes was that they were now a thousand years in the past.

Rowena greeted them and inquired into their health. They in turn asked pointed questions about the year and the locale. They were indeed in the distant past at a newly formed Hogwarts castle. They exclaimed their astonishment and provided details about their predicament, and Rowena in turn was amazed at their journey.

"You must come in and partake of our hospitality whilst I garner a chance to satisfy my curiosity. Please, enter."

Harry and Snape spent the next few weeks staying at Hogwarts, meeting the Founders, researching their situation, and discussing magical theory. Harry would tense up from time to time in the discussions, waiting for Snape to say something derisive about him and his lack of understanding, but much to his surprise, Snape refused to harass him. In fact, there was a distinct lack of ire in the Potions Master, as if it had all been erased. Before long, Harry noticed that he, too, no longer felt their old animosity, wondering if perhaps it had been burned away in their previous encounter on the beach. Now he didn't know what to feel.

Days became weeks, which then became months. The Founders were busy putting finishing touches on the castle, getting ready to open in the fall for the first year of classes. They took what time they could to help Harry and Snape research their predicament, but no amount of investigating led to any conclusions. Harry was becoming disenchanted at their lack of progress. This felt just like his work back at the Ministry, only with the distinct difference that he could feel the magic humming all around him, even in his sleep. It was maddening not being able to answer where it came from or how to use it to get back to their own time. He was starting to wonder if he was the failure Snape had accused him of being those weeks ago.

After months of boredom and fruitless searching, Harry gave up trying to understand the fundamentals of magic and instead decided to pursue a much more practical form.

"Snape, will you teach me how to fly?"

Snape frowned at him. "You already fly, very well I might add, on your broom. What more do you want?"

"No, not on a broom or on the back of a winged creature, I mean the way you and Voldemort could do it, on your own power. Will you show me how?"

"I may, but there is a price to pay for learning it."

Harry knew to be wary of any Slytherin's bargain, and if the warning were coming from Snape, he had to be doubly on the look-out. "What's the price and the catch?"

"The price is a measure of your magic, given to me the teacher."

It was Harry's turn to frown in thought. "So you gave a piece of your magic to Voldemort, even after you had already done so with the Dark Mark and regretted it? That's mental."

Snape just shrugged. "The price seemed worth it at the time. I knew it could be useful in the position I was in during the war, a means of a quick getaway or an extra advantage in battle, as it did so prove."

Harry remembered Snape jumping out of the window, fleeing McGonagall and Flitwick and Slughorn's triple attack, so maybe he had a point about that usefulness. Harry sure could have used it a time or two when he'd fallen off his broom, and it would have come in handy during the break-in to Gringotts and subsequent escape. But still, it seemed like a heavy price to pay. "How much magic?"

"A decent amount, which is why it cannot be taught to any common witch or wizard; they would not have enough power for the payment. However, as is evidenced by the past months of travel, it appears that you possess enough magic to … donate to the endeavour. I doubt you would find your magic that diminished afterward."

Was that a compliment? It certainly sounded like one in Harry's book, so he took a chance on fate and dove right on in. "Okay. Yes. I want to learn to fly, and I'll give you some of my magic in return."

Snape nodded his head in acknowledgement and immediately got to work lecturing Harry on the proper spell and technique for flying. Harry could feel his magic building in anticipation of this new feat, and when they finally took off, his magic crackled with life. The transfer of energy took place within the first few inches above the ground, flowing out of his center and into Snape. It wasn't a lot, but it was a noticeable amount. He couldn't care less, though, as elation grabbed him. Soon he was flying in wide arcs and swooping dives, shouting and laughing in pure joy. This was what magic was all about. He took Snape's hands and spun him about in mid-air, delighting in the pleased look on Snape's face. He grinned in delight.

And the world was swallowed in joy.

* * *

Harry still felt himself flying, but he also felt himself walking, and sleeping, and running, and swimming. Confusion settled in beside the joy and he looked around his current situation, only to be brought up short by the vision before his eyes. He was everywhere! Hundreds, maybe thousands, of Harrys stretched as far as he could see, all talking and breathing and living simultaneously, many overlapping their fellow Harrys, and he could feel them all. They were all himself, moving at the same time. He looked back and felt his younger selves - alone in his cupboard, on board the Hogwarts express, facing down Voldemort multiple times. He looked closely around him and felt himself in the Ministry, himself on the beach shouting at Snape, himself flattened out in a two-dimensional characterization. He felt himself flying now and then felt himself standing in front of a home with Snape. He looked forward and felt himself being acknowledged by his bosses on a job well done, congratulating Teddy on finishing school, making love to Snape.

Wait! WHAT?

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, looking further into the future. Sure enough, there they were together, talking, holding hands, kissing, making love. Years and years of it, from bonding and buying a house together all the way to burying Snape in their old age.

Harry could do nothing but float in shock and awe as he felt all of his pasts and futures. He could feel the moment he was born, and he could feel the moment of his death. It should have been creepy and unsettling, but instead he felt a fullness, a rightness in being. This was all of him, summed together, etched out in what must have been four-dimensional space. It was a weird feeling, but there was truth in it, a surety that this was his whole life. He looked to the past and made peace with his abused childhood, and he looked to the future and accepted the love he felt there. [2]

And all throughout his magic was a constant, and finally he understood. He was the magic, and the magic was he. It existed because he existed. He created it in his being, and it helped form his self.

* * *

With that Harry glided back into three-dimensional space, landing in twilight just outside of Snape's door. Snape was there waiting for him. "Found what you seek?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I did, along with a complete surprise future. Did you see that, too? Us … together?"

Snape nodded his head in affirmation. "Honestly, Potter, it's no real surprise. We've always been in each other's sphere of influence, with common backgrounds and dark experiences, and we have had passionate encounters."

"But to love you? And you to love me? How could you have predicted that?"

"Love and hate are merely opposite sides of the same coin. It is our life intertwined."

"And our magic showed the way."

"Indeed. Care for a drink?"

-The End-

* * *

[1] The idea of a 3D person being stuck in a 2D realm was taken from Madeline L'Engle's book iA Wrinkle In Time/i.

[2] The idea of a 3D person being stuck in a 4D realm was my own devising based on what we know of hypercubes, which is the physical movement of cubes through time.

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**Please review!** As I said, this is not a normal story, so I would love to hear your views and thoughts and questions and analyses. I would love to respond back and discuss things, but remember you must be signed in for that!


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